


The New Addition

by CosimaMaslany



Category: Fight Club (1999), Fight Club - All Media Types, Fight Club - Chuck Palahniuk
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 22:07:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3786016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosimaMaslany/pseuds/CosimaMaslany
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's been a lot of new faces to Fight Club, too many new faces, in fact. People have been breaking the first two rules... but what happens when one of the new people who shows up is someone that no one expects?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The New Addition

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: Hey guys! It's been a while since I've written anything, so I decided to write a small story for Fight Club. it'll be rated T for now, but I reserve the right to change it later. Enjoy! There'll be more soon! (Also, this is the first time I've posted anything on AO3, so I hope you like it!)

Tyler stands in the center of the ring on a soggy wet Saturday night addressing the crowd at the beginning of Fight Club. 'Eighth rule of Fight Club: If this is your first night, you have to fight!" I stand on the outside of the circle, Jack's observant eye, ever watching. As always. Something catches my eye. Rain leaks into the basement from cracks in the ceiling, making the whole place into a slip and slide park. I turn my gaze to the other end of the circle. A young woman, about 20, 21, maybe, is chewing gum and watching Tyler with a fascinated expression on her face. One word flashes in my mind.  
Tourist. This girl is another Marla, Some preppy little girl come to watch the big boys fight.  
I am Jack's slow boiling rage. One by one, the newbies fight, finally, she steps out into the circle when the name 'Sam Walker' is called. I see Tyler raise a brow and study the girl. Everyone in the barroom basement is silent, as puzzled as our fearless leader. The girl just cocks her head to the side slgitly. "There a problem?" The sound of gum popping bounces around the walls. Tyler just stares at her for another couple of seconds before saying quietly. "You're a girl." The pixie just smiles cheekily.  
'Well spotted. Who am I fighting?"  
Tyler's gaze hardens and he says firmly. "Nobody. Go home." She doesn't like that and just stands there, holding her ground. "Why the hell not?"  
"Because you're a girl." 'Sam Walker' crosses her arms and gives Tyler the stink eye. "I guarantee you, I can fight as well as any man in this room."  
"You've gotta be at least 18 to fight."  
"I didn't hear that in the rules." She shoots back. "And I didn't hear in the rules that Fight Club is men only. I've as much right to be in this room as any of you." I hope for a slight mooment that Tyler's not going to relent, that he's just going to take her by her shoulders and steer her out of the circle, but I see that look on his face. That's the look he had on the night when I asked him if I could stay with him, when he wanted me to hit him as hard as I could. It was a look that could start wars, damn souls, and everything in between. That shit-eating smirk.  
"Okay, princess. We'll give it a try. One night, deal? You won't go squealing to the police if you get hurt?"  
Sam just rolls her eyes and takes out her gum, throwing it on the floor and taking off her shirt, revealing a white sports bra. "I don't talk to cops." She takes the red scrunchie off her wrist and uses it to tie her corn-yellow blond hair up into a ponytail ontop of her head. "Who'm I fightin'?" Tyler looks straight at me and I pale. Several excuses run through my head. I can't fight a girl. She shouldn't even be here anyway, she's a fucking tourist. But I just step into the circle. I haven't fought tonight, and what Tyler says goes. Sam just smiles at me. "I'll go easy on ya, sugar."  
"Ladies first!" Tyler yells. Without warning, a blow hits my face. Damn, she's quick. Without thinking, I hit back, landing her collarbone. The fight goes on for five minutes, Sam and I beating on each other. I never knew one female could have all this strength. Especially a little one like her. At the end, I come out on top, but not for her lack of trying. We're both sweaty, bloody, and have bruises just starting on our bodies. I scan her face for any tears or signs of weakness, but she just smiles at me through bloody teeth and holds out a hand. "Good one, sweetheart. We'll have to do this again sometime." I shake and she goes back into the crowd and the next fight starts.  
When Fight Club is over, and I'm helping clean up, I catch the blonde watching me for a second, then she gives me a small smile and disappears into the darkness and I catch myself smiling back a little and semi-hoping she comes back next time as I turn back to my work.  
Sam's POV  
I know the first thing people think of when someone mentions the word call center: Some Middle-Eastern yahoo who can barely speak a lick of English, yet somehow is able to land a job in an outsourced call center run by some giant American company who couldn't give two shits about the poor asshole's wellbeing.  
Well, I work in one of those. Right smack dab in one of the 'greatest American cities out there'. I work in a call center, for a major cable company. And right now, I'm sitting in my cubicle, staring at one of those stupid Garfield bobbleheads with a plaque saying 'I hate Mondays' plastered onto it in blood red letters, listening to a customer complain about his bill, even though I've explained it to him fifty times over. My head is pounding from the beating I took on Saturday night, and with every word coming out of this idiot's mouth, another pulse of blood echoes inside my ever aching skull and I suddenly can't take it anymore. I hit the 'release' button and end the call, grabbing my key card and my pack of cigarettes and going outside for a smoke.  
My face is marked with several black and blue spots on it, and I know from some of the looks I've been getting, people think i have some boyfriend or a husband who's been beating up on me, but I don't care. I've never really cared what people think about me. I couldn't really tell you why when I heard a couple of guys standing in line behind me at the bank one day, talking about Fight Club, something clicked in my mind and told me I should go.  
All I can tell you is that for that five or so minutes in the ring, I've een more alive than I have been in my short 23 years of life on this Earth. And that I'm certainly going back next week. I inhale the cigarette and sigh happily. My body aches, and I don't give a shit. The guy standing next to me takes one look at me, throws his cigarette down and goes back inside as soon as he makes eye contact. No one wants to talk to a girl with marks on her face. Wants to get the actual story of why she came to work that day looking like a beaten rug.  
It's understandable, really. I take a deep breath and finish my cigarette, stomping the ashes and leaving the smoke deck. Back to the bullshit.

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: Sorry for the shortness, I'll try and lengthen the chapters as I go. I'm going to make this a ten chapter story for now. Work and life might get in the way, but I will update as I go. Kudos and comments are appreciated! Thank you, guys, I really hope you like it!


End file.
